


Needle and Thread

by flangogh



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Brainwashing, Child Abuse, Possession, Psychological Horror, everybody loves puppets, hates them, or well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 14:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16894725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flangogh/pseuds/flangogh
Summary: The morning was like any other.Dave was just up.Cal needed repairs.A brainwashing fic on how Bro Strider became the horrible man we all know and hate.





	Needle and Thread

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my very first fic and I'm gonna try my hand at this! I had the idea after binging a few good movies! This first chapter is an intro of sorts!
> 
> DISCLAIMER!!! I do not condone, excuse, or support anything Bro Strider has done in canon and I'm not trying to make it better or reason it. I just thought that a brainwashing fic would be something cool to try my hand at and maybe continue! I also changed it from calling him Bro to calling him Dirk. It's not very mood-appropriate imo?? This first chapter so far doesn't have the tags but rest assured they will happen, so I'm tagging just so people know!
> 
> You can comment or send me any messages at my twitter: @flan_glo 
> 
> Enjoy!!

A morning that started like any other. Dirk was up at the crack of dawn the moment Dave started mewling and screaming in his crib. The former studio was converted back into a bedroom, like it was meant for and advertised as when he bought it. The room still had it’s storage. Boxes with ornaments for specific holidays and extra blankets for if his smoking habit burnt another goddamn hole into the old one. Well, that habit turned down a lot now that he had another life to take care of. He knew he was shitty for still doing it, but he rationalized with himself that if the window is open, he still has a bit of brownie points for doing the right thing. 

He followed the sound from the futon to the door, opening the still creaking door- note to self: get that fixed- and watched the small hands grab above the border of the crib. It was always cute to see those little hands try to hold whatever was in reach, endless fun just handing him shit. Keys, a checkbook, the remote, corn dogs. You name it, Dave holds it like a champ. 

The crying came to an end when Dirk’s two gloved hands reached down and held the baby close to his chest and shoulder, supporting his neck and petting the soft hairs with a big hand compared to that fragile body. He kissed the side of his face, knowing the sunlight always made the boy so bothered with the eyes he had. While walking out the room, he caught a glimpse of Cal.

Cal, right. He was due for repairs. Dave didn’t seem too keen to, but that puppet was fucking optimal to sleep against when your own body is much smaller. Plush as fuck, dude. Pinning that earlier memo, he kept holding the baby while walking back to the futon, setting him down against the pillows, putting his own shades on Dave's nose, and playing whatever was on the channel. He never changed the channel these days from baby programming. Whenever he did get personal time, he was too exhausted to even register anything on a brainwashing or dumb program. Yeah that’s all these programs really are, brainwashing bullshit. 

In the meantime, a bottle. Get the chemicals out the box into the bottle and shake like hell. He turned around again to check on Dave and- 

Oh, He must’ve placed Cal on the futon’s armrest without knowing. He used to drag him everywhere so that made sense. It all became automatic behavior to him. Shaking himself back to it, he continued to shake the bottle.

With grabbing hands, Dave went after the bottle presented and Dirk handed it over. Then an itching started. An itch that started and never ended, no matter how deep the nails have nested themselves in his skin. He needed to repair Cal, take care of Cal first. Well, a quick patch to his arm would be enough for Dave to finish the bottle and start crying or sleeping again. The hold on the puppet felt heavier, sturdier. It was almost a relief to put it down on the kitchen counter. He reached into the kitchen drawer, having put the needle and thread for small tasks like this in there so he could work while watching Dave. Although he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the torn seam. The needle pierced agonizingly slow, the orange thread almost vulnerable as it followed the punctured fabric. Repair Cal. The joints in his hands began to stiffen with every loop made, it almost being agony as he cut the thread afterwards. He felt the space in between his chest and stomach tighten in turn as he let go. His own breathing wasn't noticed, but it rivaled the television's sound.

He didn’t bother to bring him with as his consciousness snapped back to Dave, turning around to see if he was okay. Yeah, the little dude was doing better than ever. Dirk, though, got a bit of whiplash by how fast he turned around.

“Hey little bro, you still good?”

The baby didn’t respond, so busy with getting the most out of that bottle and watching flashing colors on the TV that it went right over his head. Okay, yeah, this is peaceful. Peaceful. Although he felt something just as piercing of a gaze as that needle watch him. The sensation of tension running down his neck. The itch for a smoke coming back just at the feeling. No, not around Dave. Wasn’t gonna fuck up some kid’s lungs. He must be insane. 

Instead of turning to tobacco he just sat down, the feeling of being watched persisting as he put Dave on his lap and watched him be enamored by the movie he was watching. Something about the power of friendship.

His gut began to wring itself out like a towel at some point. Something was behind him he just had to look. Something so close to him it was nearly imprinted into his neck like a tattoo. A creeping, crawling bead of sweat running down said area. Ever so slowly he turned around, heavy breath out of his nose that trembled at the end. 

When he did look, nothing. The paranoid ringing in his ears stopped, the feeling of being watched, too. All he heard was the clock and the TV. This was the last sigh of relief he breathed.

“Bwo”

And his head snapped back. He was looking at Dave, who was pointing his tiny finger up at Dirk and looking at him for confirmation.

The laugh was something of relief and nerves, pride however being dominant. “Fuck yeah, dude, it sure is. I’m your bro.”

The kid repeated himself, and the laugh was still stuck in his throat, slowly beginning to relax now that Dave broke that feeling of gut-turning dread to gut-turning adoration.

“Good job, dude. Now finish that bottle or I would’ve shaken the life out of it for nothing.”


End file.
